Sanity Is Relative
by LionQuinnFabgay
Summary: "You're like a modern day Batman….but you're a chick. Which instantly make you more badass." If Puck had known just how deeply Rachel would take those words, he'd probably have kept his mouth shut. But there's too many questions in Hiram and Leroy's murder, and Rachel Berry was never one to back down from a challenge. This was no different. Puckleberry Bromance & Faberry. AU
1. The Memorial

**Chapter One:** _The Memorial_

**Summary:** _"You're like a modern day Batman….but you're a chick. Which instantly make you more badass." If Puck had known just how deeply Rachel would take those words, he'd probably have kept his mouth shut. But there's too many questions in Hiram and Leroy's murder, and Rachel Berry was never one to back down from a challenge. This was no different._

**A/N:** _Hey there readers! Welcome to a new fic that I've been working on, it's different from anything I've done before, but I'm very excited for it. I always want to hear your thoughts, and love seeing new followers so here's hoping that I keep everyone's interest! Inspired by my girlfriend playing Batman: Arkham Asylum, this fic is going to go through quite a bit. Faberry is endgame, but it's definitely more so going to be a slow burn for the two of them. That doesn't mean they will be ignored for the plot, just that I want to take my time with their development._

**A/N 2:**_ I currently have the first nine chapters planned out, however not all nine are already written. I'm hoping to keep a steady flow of updates going for my faithful readers, as I know I'm not the most wonderful at doing so with Anything for Glee Club._

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The rain was fitting, giving the house a dramatic touch as people gathered in black, passing around their condolences, sharing stories of Hiram and Leroy's wonderful past; each one huddled in the kitchen, or the living room, hardly anyone having gone near to Rachel after their first introduction. Her chocolate eyes lacked life, and it unsettled even the strongest and most heartless of people. They couldn't see the forced smile and not feel like breaking down themselves, simply because Rachel Berry had never had to force a smile. In the eighteen years that friends and family have known the girl, she was always so bright and happy; but when they looked at her now, that sunshine behind her eyes had vanished, died along with her fathers. So yes, to everyone in the house, the rain matched the feel of the Berry home, and fit very well with the girl that sat alone at the far end of the living room, staring out the windows as if expecting to see someone drive up. As if expecting to see a car pull in, windshield wipers clearing off the rain.

The soft pitter patter had really been the only thing Rachel was capable of focusing on all evening. despite the words that she'd been offered in comfort. Despite her friends being there to support her (though she wasn't exactly sure as to why a few were there. Santana and Brittany namely). She had family giving out sorry's and prayers to her left and right. But her fathers were gone, and people telling her that they were in a better place, that the cops would find out who had killed them, that they would keep her in their prayers, they didn't matter. Rachel had lost everything. She lost her ability to believe in any kind of faith; not when the two men she loved the most had been ripped from her. The police had called it a random act of violence; Rachel knew better. The Berry's were hated for their sexuality in the small town of Lima. What happened was a hate crime if anything. Someone wanting to send a message, though to whom Rachel didn't get. It was the final piece of the puzzle that she simply couldn't put together. Who, after living in Lima for so long, still hated the men enough to kill them? It didn't add up, and the question had consumed her as she watched droplets spill down the glass window.

Only the sounds of buzzing voices nearing had captured her attention some, the reason being that they were drawing closer, closer than anyone had come to her for some time. And as she saw Kurt, Mercedes and Tina draw from behind (their eyes sad and wounded despite them not having been the one's to have lost two wonderful fathers), Rachel turned from the window she had been spacing out at and walked through the living room, turned towards the kitchen and reached the back door; sneaking out easily. She didn't care if she got wet from the rain, all that mattered was the fact that she didn't feel suffocated out here. Inside it was like everyone's worry for her had been so palpable that she quite literally couldn't breathe from it all. The looks and whispers, the cloud of sadness had been absolutely draining; and rachel didn't have the energy for it. She didn't have the strength to face anyone any longer. She couldn't hear another damn apology, or another prayer for her. She didn't want to be prayed for, she wanted some answers. Real answers. Not whatever the press and the police force would feed her.

Her palm found the glass table she and her fathers would play Go Fish at, and it was as if the very table was hot to the touch; her hand retracting the moment the memory came to mind. She winced at the thought; their smiling faces, their accusing words that always wound up in Rachel being tackled and hung upside down over one of their shoulders. She couldn't handle the memories while so many people were here. Even Leroy's parents, that hadn't spoken to him since he married Hiram, had decided to show up as if they cared all along. Rachel didn't call that love. Rachel could barely call that family. To show up only when your son was dead? Only after someone had murdered him and his lover? That was cruel. And the very idea boggled Rachel more than she cared to think about. How anyone could abandon a child, be it an adult or not, had completely thrown the girl.

Not for the first time, Rachel felt a pair of eyes on her, and with a turn she had caught Noah's gaze, his hand coming up to awkwardly wave to her. They hadn't spoken, Puck knew that words wouldn't help her, and Rachel was grateful for that. She was grateful that at least someone understood she didn't need words; she just needed mooments. Moments where she didn't feel so lost, or alone, or vulnerable. She didn't want to be vulnerable in front of these people, particularly glee club. Because as much as they had grown together, the members had always tore her down when they could. They'd called her names, pretended to be her friends for their own gain, humiliated her, hated her. She didn't trust them, not when it came right down to it. And then came thoughts of Noah, who had at least apologized for the majority of the things he'd done wrong.

Rachel was both glad and sorry that Puck knew what to do in this situation. She doubted she'd ever ask how he knew, and instead live with the fact that he'd suffered like this before. It wasn't like her to intrude on something as intimate as this. Not really. At least not now when she understood the pain. So when he took it upon himself to join her outside, his tie loosened over his dampening white collared shirt, Rachel was surprised to say the least. "The food sucks," He stated bluntly, hands deep in his pants pocket while he looked out at the backyard. He hadn't been here since he was a kid and hanging out with Rachel wasn't totally lame. Of course, it wouldn't have been if he just stuck by her; a fact he tries to forget so he doesn't have to live with it. Knowing he abandoned a perfectly good friend to conform. In reality, he was the lame one out of the two of them. Rachel stuck to her guns and faced everything that came her way, Puck ran and hid behind his popularity; not that he wouldn't still be totally awesome without it.

Of course it didn't ever work, ignoring it to forget, no matter how many slushies, or how many names Puck still saw that little girl in the dinosaur costume that would trample over his lego city when they were kids. It sucked, but high school somehow worked that way. Friends came second to status. At least they did at McKinley. "It's some recipe that Aunt May made." Rachel shrugged, not exactly knowing what had been put out to eat in the first place; just that her aunt had taken over the kitchen. She didn't ask, she didn't say anything, just went on ahead and began cooking, kicking anyone that dared enter her domain right back out.

"Yeah well, keep her out of it next time. It just makes everything more sad cus you can't compliment the food." The silence that comes over the two is almost unbearable, but Rachel sticks it through, fighting back the tears that have been threatening to fall since this morning. She didn't want to cry in front of these people. Not when so many of them were here out of obligation. Not when so many of them could so easily hurt her the moment they saw the first tear fall. There had been only one person that didn't come; and oddly enough it was like fresh air. While deep down Rachel was very aware how much it hurt, Quinn constantly denying Rachel's offerings of friendship, she found it nice that someone wasn't here because they simply didn't want to be. Not seeing Quinn at her house, knowing it was because of her religious beliefs and the fact that neither one of them were exactly on speaking terms or friendly to one another, was the most honest thing Rachel had felt all day. And God was it refreshing. Everything had felt fake today, her smile, the one's she was given, the words, the hugs; all of it except for Quinn not showing up to her house.

"Rachel," a voice neither one recognizes calls from the sliding glass door, and it isn't until Rachel see's her cousin Amy's face that she understands why she doesn't recognize it. "People are leaving."

For a moment Rachel has half the heart to blatantly voice how she hadn't cared. The ones leaving were without a doubt not anyone she cared to have there in the first place, so why should she see them off? All she wanted to do was go back to her parents graves and sit for a while longer. Her goodbye was forced short, 'family' needing to return home or wanting to get out of the Lima cold.

She hated them.

God she hated them so much.

And that moment of having half the heart turned to being completely sure of that being exactly what she wanted to do."If I gave a damn about who was coming in and out of my house I would have locked the door before anyone arrived." The words come out with such venom, so much so Puck even stepped back away from the brunette, before turning to face the girl he'd never met before. Her face is something along the lines of shock and anger before she turns to storm back into the house; and while Puck turns to face Rachel again, he catches the hot tears trailing down her cheeks.

He gets it.

It's why he doesn't move from his spot, but instead goes back to the food issue. It's something small, something Rachel can fix. Something that doesn't feel like the end of the world. "You wanna get some Taco Bell?"

Her sad chocolate eyes look up to him, and before she can stop it a bubble of a laugh comes from her. She knows it's too early to be laughing; it's too early to be smiling even, but this was Noah. And he always knew what to do when she needed someone. Even if it was always from a distance. "I'd love to get some Taco Bell." She said with a sad chuckle and nod, her bangs bouncing near her eyes. Moving to walk in close to her friend, the one from their childhood days, not Puck the manwhore, Rachel can't help but feel the smallest bit of comfort. And while Rachel and Puck are eyed as they leave the house, neither one gives a single person the time of day. They simply grab their coats and walk to Puck's truck, driving off while Finn, Kurt, Mercedes and Tina just stand and watch, completely confused and overall completely lost as to what they were supposed to do in Rachel Berry's house without a Rachel Berry.

Not that it mattered to the brunette. If things had gone missing then so be it; her Barbra collection was safely under lock and key in her closet, and really the only person that would even consider going there would be Santana, and well somehow Rachel felt the girl would show her mercy.

She watched as random houses passed by them, houses with people she'd never known before. While there were never any outwardly obvious hate crimes in Lima (if one doesn't count the recent murder of her fathers of course), no one ever attempted to actually get to know the family. There had even been some that had actually spoken to Rachel, finding it unfair that her fathers forced this lifestyle on her. And every time Rachel would be polite, smile her way through a long rant about how her fathers loved her more than they could ever possibly love their children. Of course she never elaborated past that, simply walked on with her head held high. She didn't need to say anything more than that, she knew she was right.

If Rachel could smile at the memory, she would; unfortunately it just hurt. Because those two men did love her more than anything. Hiram and Leroy treated Rachel like an angel and now they were just...gone. No one was going to love her the way they did. No one. And the thought alone had finally cracked the brunette. Her first sob coming out as a hiccup the next few filled with so much sorrow and pain; sounding just as they pulled into the Taco Bell. Puck parked the car as immediately as he could so he could hold her. This was what he'd been waiting for; standing at a distance, but always close enough to be at her side to help her if she needed his arms. He'd lived through the passing of his nana, and while it couldn't possibly compare to losing two loving parents, he knew that there were moments when someone was needed and moments when someone wasn't.

As Rachel's body shook violently with sobs, her heart shattering into pieces as thought after thought of her fathers attacked her, Puck just leaned over as far as he could, the center console getting in his way and making the overall position increasingly unomfortable, to wrap his arms as securely as he could around the brunette.

He hated what she was going through, he hated that she felt this loss. But even worse was his hatred for Quinn right now. Yeah, it seemed pretty out of place but he knew that Rachel needed people. She needed actually friends and you'd have to be an idiot not to see why Rachel fought so hard for Quinn's. Course he figured most of glee club were exactly that. All Rachel ever wanted was one damn friendship with her, and the girl couldn't even show up to her dads funeral. Fuck her. At least Puck showed up, at least he was here now. Sure he cut her off as a friend out of the blue, and yeah he'd thrown slushie's at her but he'd never abandon her like that. Glee club was supposed to be a family, and Quinn couldn't even support Rachel in her darkest moment; despite Rachel doing it for Quinn.

"I can't stop," Rachel wailed, her hand moving to cover her mouth as she tried to control herself. Tried to compose herself. She tried so hard and it wasn't happening. Her body had had enough; it couldn't hold together any longer. But this wasn't the time or the place. This was a damn Taco Bell for Christ Sake! And still the tears fell, still her chest tightened against her heart, constricting it further and further until she felt weak. Her head grew light, and then suddenly heavy as she cried in Puck's arms. She was going to lose consciousness soon; she was sure of it.

But as time went on, and Rachel wasn't lucked with passing out, she felt her abdomen grow tired, muscles aching from the flexing of her sobs and cries and wails. She had fought these tears for so long, and she wanted to badly to have waited to let them out when no one was around; but now that it was happening she was so grateful that Puck was there. If she'd been alone during this...she wasn't sure she wouldn't do anything stupid. Her entire life was with her fathers; they were her biggest support, her best friends. They were all she had for so many years and now she had nothing. If everyone turned their back on her, she'd have no one. Absolutely no one.

"I don't want to be alone." She admitted aloud, unaware of the words until Puck assured her he wasn't going anywhere. That he'd always be with her.

"Promise."


	2. The Aftermath

**Chapter Two:** _The Aftermath_

**A/N:** A shorter chapter than the last. But it's mostly filler and to set a few things up before we really delve into the plot. I would love to hear what you think and appreciate any reviews, favorites or followers! Enjoy!

**A/N 2:** I would like to tell everyone now that updates will not be daily. They should be up every Monday. This gives me enough time to properly edit everything, as well as have another chapter written in it's place.

**A/N 3:** There will be future triggers of child abuse (I will not be going into detail though, it will simply be mentioned) in later chapters (Approximately Chapter Nine)

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The whispering still managed to cause a fuel of fire boil within the diva as she walked through the hallways. McKinley had almost been a sight for sore eyes when Rachel had decided to return to school again, the large house that echoed with each footstep growing to be too painful for her.

The red lockers and white walls painted with posters and campaigns had definitely been the change in pace Rachel needed; however she had apparently been foolish to think a week of grieving would be long enough for her fellow classmates to get over the hype of the news. Even now, three days since Rachel had returned, they still looked at her; as if expecting her to fall apart at any moment. As if she were still the car wreck that hadn't been cleared from the road and she was something to be gawked at and whispered about. And all of it continued to ruin Rachel's positive mood. All of it made everything about McKinley awful, yet another reminder of everything that she'd lost.

She hadn't wanted reminders, she wanted easy.

God she just wanted easy for five minutes.

Because now she couldn't return home to the loving arms of her fathers, now she couldn't go home and just sit and watch a musical with them. She'd go home to emptiness. She'd go home and cry all over again because everyone pitied her. Everyone knew everything. And everyone refused to even _try_. They didn't talk to her, they didn't act normal, they _waited_. She was a ticking time bomb to them, and so they waited for her to explode; something she had been so close to doing for so long.

And she knew why they waited; to watch. Not to help her or to soothe her from the storm, but to watch the wreck as it happened.

Unfortunately for them, Rachel was much too stubborn for that. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As if God knew Rachel's desperate need for a distraction, the familiar sight of choppy blonde hair came into view, however was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Rachel had grown used to it, Quinn avoiding her in any way possible. For the past three days Quinn hadn't been in Glee, had come late to the English class they shared together, and would turn down a different hallway if she'd caught Rachel heading her way. It was always this dance between them, one Rachel was never privy to. Locked eyes, stutter-steps, and walk away.

Rachel never understood it, never was able to question it, and never really cared to. Her life was chaotic enough to worry about Quinn in these past few days. While in the days before the violent shooting of her fathers, Rachel would be concerned and attempt to corner the blonde; now she simply didn't have the energy. There was enough on her plate, so much to think about, so much to add up and worry over. Her fathers had left her the house, their fortune that they'd failed to tell Rachel about to help pay for bills, they left her everything that she could have at the age of eighteen, and she wasn't sure if she was grateful or not.

Escaping Lima seemed like it would have been so much easier, so much healthier; but she knew now that if anyone took her home away from her, she'd be worse off than before, or even now. She'd never be able to return and know that there was something she could turn to should she ever need it. And she knew that it was that reason that they left it all to her. It was the one thought she could have about her fathers that she didn't completely destroy every _single_ piece of her. Their ability to love her as deeply as they did, to care for her, despite not being around to actually tell her so.

Her jaw clenched the moment she thought it, and with a heavy slam of her locker, effectively ridding herself of the anger and desperation (along with the gazes of a few stragglers in the hallway), Rachel began moving forward, catching the eye of Santana. She hadn't spoken to Rachel, those eyes intense as ever but harboring something different towards the brunette; almost like an understanding. A truce maybe?

As far as Rachel knew, Santana hadn't lost a single family member in the time she knew Rachel. So it confused the brunette. It confused her how Santana just knew everything, and how Rachel could see it in her. How she could see the pain in the girl. But much like with Puck, Rachel wouldn't pry. She's learned the gem that is privacy; it was a shame that she had to lose her own in order to see how precious it was. Maybe she'd have better friends if she learned this lesson so much sooner.

"We gotta talk about something," she heard from behind her, Puck's jogging form coming into view only moments later. He's wearing one of his many McKinley shirts, the only sign that he didn't completely hate it here. Puck may not voice it often, but he'd always consider Lima home, he loved the small town despite knowing deep down he was destined for something better than this place could ever offer.

"About what?"

"You should let me move in with you." His face was as straight as could be, even squaring his shoulders to show that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He hadn't even nervously tugged at the line of hair on his head, a factor that the brunette had caught him doing most his life when he was unsure of something. Or thinking far too much about something.

Rachel needed someone to look out for her during this, because she'd missed a week of school during senior year and hadn't been fighting for every solo in glee; and no one else was doing a _damn_ thing about it. Which only pissed the tall boy off more. If Kurt was really her friend he should be the boy here trying to help her, fix her. But clearly he didn't care enough. Clearly the people that called themselves Rachel's friends weren't ready to prove it to her; and here Puck was, the boy that had actually turned his back on the brunette, doing more than anyone else had. Look out for the damn chick.

"Just hear me out," he rushed as Rachel's face contorted into one of confusion and...well something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was never the greatest at reading Rachel's face; mostly because he only cared to know if she were sad, angry, or happy. It was always easier to get his way if he could read at least that much.

"Noah, while I'm glad that we are talking more these days, I really don't need to hear anything. You and a house to yourself sounds like a disaster waiting to happen." Rachel's words were honest, however blunt, as she began to walk past him and head to her class. She hadn't been late since she'd been back after everything, and she didn't plan on that changing because Noah Puckerman wanted his own place to host parties every weekend. Or whatever it was he wanted it for. Though really, Rachel couldn't imagine what else he'd want with it.

His form jumped into place next to her again, the both of them walking side by side now, earning a few looks from bystanders. _Nosy fuckers,_ Puck thought as he continued speaking. "I won't throw any parties without asking you first. And if you say no, you say no. Just listen okay? It's a great idea, plus my mom's threatening to kick me out if I don't pass my history paper and I failed that shit so hard I may as well just go home now to pack my shit."

The abandonment had been enough for Rachel to pause a moment, the thought that a mother would give up on her son over something as trivial as schoolwork. Everyone knew Puck could do better than he was; at least Rachel had known better, and she had hoped that his mother would see it as well. Clearly she had hoped wrong. "I'm sure she was bluffing, she's your mother-"

"Yeah, and she's terrifying." The boy admitted, keeping his voice low as to not allow others to hear him. He had a look to keep up here.

Deciding on another tactic, knowing very well that Rachel would find his bluff somewhere if he stayed on course, Puck began rushing his sentences again, shoving his hands deep in his pockets like the day at the memorial. "We need each other okay? You hate living in that place by yourself, I can tell. You always hated sleeping alone," The reference to their past nearly had Rachel's heart breaking again. She didn't want to remember the past. She just wanted to exist as it was now. But it seemed fate, or God, or whatever force it was had been completely against her. She just wanted to live for this moment and not think about how she used to have fathers, and wouldn't have them when she returned home. "Plus I need a place, and people might try and break in and what if you're alone? You going to sing them to death?"

"I am perfectly capable-" Rachel began to shout, having just reached the door to her classroom. She caught the gaze of Quinn Fabray inside, eyeing her carefully. For a moment, she couldn't gather enough strength to look away. It was the first time the two had actually locked eye contact in days, and there was something in those hazel eyes that Rachel just thrived off of it seemed.

"I'm not saying that, I just would feel better if I was there. If I could make sure you were safe. We're both Jews, we got enough hate in our past cus of dumbass people trying to blame us for shit or take things from us. I gotta stick by my jew-bro." Puck shrugged, his eyes looking to the floor in the moment of complete seriousness. He was scared. Scared for Rachel, scared for Kurt, scared for Santana. Someone killed two guys and Rachel was probably right about the reason why. Someone orphaned a girl without a single fuck given; somehow Puck didn't think they'd care if they killed a little girl, or some flaming homo boy, or a hot-headed bitch. But if they tried and kill Santana, they had better have succeeded if _they_ wanted to live another day.

For Rachel's part, she had actually thought it over, after she managed to break away from Quinn's gaze. While Puck was not known for being anything less than a party animal, as well as a man-whore, he was once her best friend. And at this very moment that much was shining through so very clear. His protective nature was one thing Rachel had missed so very much out of their friendship; while he had spent so long being one of her many tormentors, she always had, and always would see him as that friend; despite everything. "If I catch wind of any partying, or if there is ever a stranger in my kitchen or living room over the weekend I will be highly unamused Noah Puckerman." Her voice was stern, very much like a mother to her teenage son; and it only endeared the boy more. She had this thing about her that Puck really loved. Not even in a romantic way, despite their brief dating history, Puck just loved her. In a complete, you're my bromate kind of way.

"They'll be out before you even know they were there in the first place." He teasingly promised before skipping by Rachel (though not before placing a thankful peck to the top of her head), and rushing off to his own class. At least that's where Rachel had hoped he was going.


	3. The Investigation

**Chapter Three:**_ The Investigation_

**A/N:** Hello again readers! I am aware that this is not a Monday, however I have to take my father in law to get bloodwork done, radiation and Chemo done every Monday and the times of the appointments are actually getting later and later, so I won't have very much time to do so. I also know that this is very much a slower build and does not dive right into the action, and the simple reason is I want to balance realism with fantasy here. I hope this does not cause loss of interest as I know where this is headed and am very excited for it! The start of everything is towards the end of this chapter, beginning of the next. So it won't be that long of a wait! Chapter Six is when the action comes into place :)

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Rachel's walk home from school had been silent enough; sure that had been the whistle of the birds, and the rustling of the leaves with each breeze that passed by the long branches, however no one had accompanied her this evening. No one knew how to be around her it seemed, Kurt's sad eyes were of no help, and Rachel had told him as much while he stood by her locker droning on and on about how his life was over. Rachel had waited for him to say it, to say why his life was over; because certainly it had to be something so much larger than her fathers being murdered. It couldn't be anything less because Rachel's life wasn't over. So she waited, almost impatiently, to hear what he planned to complain to her about now.

It wasn't the slam of the locker that had caused Kurt to jump in place, but the grip on his collar that Rachel had taken. She pulled him in close to her face, and he could see the burning anger behind those brown eyes. He couldn't remember a single moment she looked so infuriated, as if the Devil himself had taken place in Rachel Berry's soul. And as her words came out in seething breaths, he just stared at her petrified; because Rachel Berry didn't threaten anyone.

_"Complain to me more about how your life is over because your doting father refuses to order a pricey jacket, Kurt Hummel. Please tell me more about the man that is so cruel and unfair to you, so much so he must be faking loving you and accepting you for who you are."_

In any normal circumstances, Rachel simply wouldn't have made someone elses issues seem so small to her own; she was a full on believer of each person having their own pain to bear, and a certain capacity to do so. However in that instant, when Kurt whined about not getting a simple jacket because his father couldn't afford it? More than likely because he was too busy storing money away for Kurt to attend college? That was more than enough for Rachel to feel the fury within her. And still, that wasn't what had caused her blood to boil; it was simply the breaking point.

All day the boy had been complaining about how Quinn hadn't shown up to Rachel's fathers' funeral. He continued to talk about her as if Quinn hadn't already gone through enough, as if the girl wasn't stronger than each and every one of them. Rachel hadn't known a fragment of Quinn's pain until recently. And while Quinn had never had a father murdered, she'd felt the abandonment of losing two parents that (though as delusional as it may have been) loved her. And hearing Kurt complain only more about something so idiotically trivial? It had broken Rachel's calm.

Her fingers grasped to the strap of her bookbag tighter at the simple memory, her anger boiling over once more. It happened a lot lately, that sudden rush of rage. She'd never experienced that specific emotion to its full extent before, and she began to understand why. Anger, or rather rage, it was terrifying. To feel as if you could simply break someone's neck all day if they looked at you the wrong way? It was paralyzingly petrifying. And somehow thrilling, a new emotion for Rachel to draw on should she need it in her future on Broadway.

Her gaze had been transfixed on the cement sidewalk for the majority of her walk home until that grey had turned to black asphalt; the driveway to her home. She knew Puck had planned on moving in, she had agreed so long as specific terms had been met. The most important of all of them that her fathers room not be touched. To which he agreed, sadness lacing his tone. Something that hadn't lasted long, as Puck was diving into where he could set up his zombie apocalypse kit in the guest room, or rather his new room.

So, Rachel had known Puck was coming over today, and still the sight of the boy sitting outside of her home, eyes lost in a colorful however thin book, had surprised her. "Noah, you're here earlier than I thought you'd be."

His attention now grabbed, brown eyes shot up to meet Rachel's gaze, and he smiled a friendly lopsided grin before standing and dropping his book to one of the three boxes to his left. "I packed up last night, had'em in my car ready to go." With a cross of his arms, Puck looked to rAchel expectantly, having already been sitting for a good fifteen minutes waiting for the door to be unlocked.

It had clearly not crossed Rachel's mind at first, her small jump and the very evident lightbulb moment taking place before she stepped in closer to the door, unlocking it and opening it wide for him. "You remember where the guest room is, right?" She asked, placing her bag just to the side of the door before returning to help Puck carry one of his boxes into the entryway. She had oddly imagined much more than just three.

"Yeah, I got this, don't worry about it. I wouldn't say no to being fed though. I'm starving."

"Of course you are," Rachel mumbled with a roll of her eyes. "Know that I am only making you a sandwich simply because I feel guilty taking my time walking when you had come early. Not because I'm a woman." She swore, despite hearing his laugh echoing off the stairway wall. It was a sound she hadn't heard in some time, not since- well, not for a few weeks. A part of her isn't sure what to do with that, if she should laugh back, retort with some sort of huffed reply, or stay in silence. She hadn't been around cheery happy people in some time; mostly she stays to herself, unable to bear just how many people took pity on her and watched her with those expectant sad eyes.

With a huff, Rachel begins to make them both peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, suddenly realizing that she hadn't had actual food in the house for some time. It was hard to notice when the kitchen was so infrequently occupied.

"That bed is so damn comfy, plus bonus points for it not squeaking with movement." The wink had caused for Rachel to roll her eyes and shove the plate with his sandwich in front of him.

"You're disgusting."

"You miss it."

As simple of a statement as it was, both young adults knew how true it was. Puck had missed Rachel's way to solve everything and make it all easy again, and Rachel had missed Puck's ability to calm her down. She was far less high maintenance with him around, and though their small affair had been brief, it showed them just exactly how much easier they made the other's lives. So perhaps this wouldn't be the worst decision Rachel's ever made.

A knock at the door awakens both from their mildly awkward silence, and Puck is the first to move to answer it, returning only with a few letters in hand. "Weird," He sighed, placing them down on the counter.

"What's that?"

"Bills."

Rachel scoffs out a laugh, because yes, she has to pay bills. Yes she has to act more like an adult than she already had before all of this. She didn't have someone worrying about it for her, no matter how much she wished she did. "Yes, those are due every now and then."

His sadness is clear on his face, and Rachel is near ready to slap the boy for ruining the joy that he'd placed in the home so easily. But she doesn't, and instead swipes up the letters and searches for the bills as to see what's due now and how she is supposed to go about paying them. Something she's not quite well-versed in just yet.

She can hear the ripping of other letters being opened behind her, and while she knew nothing was addressed to Puck, she didn't mind it. He would be living here after all. However when she hears him whisper out a 'no fucking way' she's almost afraid to turn around. Had he seen how much she currently had in her banking account? Did he find out that she secretly had more money than she knew what to do with? Was he already planning to waste a large portion on it for some outlandish party?

Unfortunately, the truth is not at all as simple as what she had assumed. It's complicated, messy, and heartbreaking.

The letter is written in Leroy's writing, though both of her fathers had signed it at the bottom. It's the first thing Rachel had seen and already she was nearly breaking down. How they had known that she'd need a letter was beyond her, but as her eyes skimmed over the letter Puck handed to her, she had to sit and read it over at least three times to fully understand.

Her body had landed on the floor, back resting against the off-white painted cupboards near the oven as her eyes read over the letter again and again.

_Our Dearest Rachel,_

_We know what you must be thinking right now, what you must be feeling, and we are so sorry we can't be there to help you through this. We both hope you find someone to help, that you aren't forced to face this alone._

Rachel's eyes look up to Puck, who is standing just to her side, staring off as if he'd just seen a ghost.

_Rachel, we know you must already be confused as to why we're not only gone, but knew we would be long enough to write you this letter and have it sent by a dear friend should this unfortunate day come. And we want to answer you. We want to give you every possible answer we can, but all that your daddy and I can say right now is we are so sorry we can't be there with you, and that we love you very much, and that we hope you understand why we kept so much of this a secret from you._

_I suppose I will start this by telling you where all of the money is from. Before my father died, he left his company to me. We work mostly in shipping, research and development. You knew I worked for making the environment healthy and clean, what we never told you was that I am the owner of JamesonCorp, or I should say was. You are now the owner of it, however not the face of the company. For that we used the friend that sent you this letter. I'm getting off topic; you know what everyone knows about JamesonCorp, however what most people don't know is that along with environmental research and shipping, we also specialize in military weaponry. It is part of our research and development program, instilled only when September Eleventh occurred._

_One night while on my way home, I was approached by a rather terrifying man, whose name I will not be giving you as I fear you'll be seeking out something that will not at all result in a healthy grieving pattern. He threatened myself along with you and daddy when I refused to supply him with any sort of weaponry. He never went into details about why he needed these things, and because of that I refused even more profusely, which made myself and your father wanted men. At least to this man it seemed. So we wrote you this letter when we began noticing a few trends in behavior from complete strangers. We were followed most nights, and feared for your well-being. I can only assume that my refusal is what stole myself and daddy from you, and I so deeply apologize. We love you, Rachel. So very much, I hope you understand that everything we did, it was for your safety._

_We need you to stay safe. With the news of the company being handed to someone outside of the Jameson name, you should be safe. However no one can know about that, Rachel. No one. It won't be safe for you if they do._

_Never be afraid to sing us a song every now and then, and don't you dare stop sharing your gift with the world._

_Love,_

_Dad and Daddy._

The tears that spill down tan cheeks are a mixture of fury and sadness. Fury at her fathers for not letting her go to the police with this information and getting the justice she so rightfully deserves, and sadness at knowing this is the last bit of contact she will have with her fathers ever again. A fact she hadn't come to terms with until now. Now when she was forced to face it. Their letter not only a warning but a goodbye.

She didn't want a goodbye. And as her face twisted in a surge of pain, Puck slid down next to her, eyes still distant. He hears her soft sobs, the ones she's trying to hide from him and failing so miserably at doing so. But he can't wake himself out of the trance he seems to be in. He knew Rachel's secret, he knew the one thing that Rachel's dad's didn't want him to know. Didn't want anyone to know, and weirdly it reminded him of one thing. The comic he'd been reading while waiting for Rachel to walk home. "You know what this makes you?"

Rachel's soft sniffling comes to a pause momentarily so she can answer him, "An orphan with more issues than she could have ever known existed?"

"No," He deadpans, eyes still forward. "You're like a modern day Batman….but you're a chick. Which instantly make you more badass."

"Who?"

"Bruce Wayne? Batman." Now he looks to her, seeing the tear stains that she's attempting to clear from her face.

"I've never watched the movies." She's too exhausted to fight with him on this, too mentally worn from all of the questions racing through her mind in a single moment. All of them blending in with one another.

"You've never- Rachel how have you never seen any Batman movie?! They've only been made since the freaking what nineties?" She shrugs. "Oh no, okay, you clearly need to be educated. Bruce's parents were killed when he was just a little kid, right? Younger than Eighteen, they were shot and-" Puck began to realize his over-enthusiasm, and forced himself to sit back against the cupbaords, though when he had turned and sat on his knees was beyond him. "Anyways, they like left their company to Bruce, and Bruce became Batman to make Gotham City a better place and I mean, Lima's no Gotham but stuff still happens here."

"Noah," The boy flinches at how weak she sounds, her tone raspy and cold; almost distant. "While your enthusiasm is a bit of fresh air after having just read that, the idea is completely ridiculous. First of all, I'm not strong enough to become some sort of vigilante hero, second of all, superheroes only exist in comic books."

"I'm just saying, you two have a lot in common."

"No really."

"Kind of."

Rachel let it be after that, despite Puck still attempting to battle his argument with the movie Kickass. At some point she had found the strength to stand once more, and began to move about the house, gathering her keys and putting on a small coat. "Where you going?"

"Library," She called over her shoulder before turning to face the boy fully. "I'll bring home some Chinese food for dinner." All Puck does is nod and watch as Rachel leaves, heading back up the steps to finish off unpacking what little he had decided to bring with him.

Rachel, having not been the most wonderful of drivers out there, walked her way to the library; a building no larger than her own home with dirty brick walls, finding a need for complete privacy as she tormented herself by going through old news articles about her fathers' murder.

The sidewalk under her feet didn't feel as firm or sturdy as it should have been. Each step had felt weaker than the last, everything that had just been exposed to her seemingly too much to wrap her mind around. How her dad had kept this from her truly was cunning however hurtful. If she had known, she would have gone to the police force, or at the very least would have recommended that they leave for New York to escape it all in the hopes of it dying down. As it were, she'd never get the chance, and truthfully, that hurt worse than anything more. Because it wasn't just the fact that her and her fathers' would never get to see New York, but they'd never see her make it to college, or on Broadway. They wouldn't be there for her first show. They wouldn't be front and center and _God_ if she could just have had the chance to see their faces then. Just for that one moment.

The tears are falling before she even recognizes she's crying. Thin arms come to wrap around herself, tightening against her chest to keep it from splitting in half. Because she swears that if she lets go, she'll crumble right there. If her arms aren't at the crushingly tight grip they were right then, she would without a doubt fall apart that very second. Piece by piece. Slowly leaving a trail for someone to find.

It takes only a few more moments for anger to take place of the sadness, and she's walking again (though she wasn't sure when she had even stopped). She's determined. While her fathers may not have wanted this for her, she was going to find out who killed them. She was going to find them, and kill him herself. If that made her some vigilante superhero to Puck, then so be it. But this wasn't about playing a character, this was wanting revenge. More than anything this was about needing to feel some sort of justice for the fact that something so precious was stolen from her.

The heavy glass door closed slowly behind her as she entered the library, a few eyes on her the moment she stepped in. However she ignored them, and moved straight for the computers, typing in her search the second she could. Rachel read through story after story on her father's murder; one she now knew was not a hate crime. Unfortunately the more she searched the less she seemed to find. There were very few discrepancies in stories, and only one had a photo of the surveillance camera that had caught only the tail end of the confrontation. Still, Rachel had printed each one out, feeling this need to store everything in a binder. It could be useful one day. Maybe she missed something that she hadn't seen before, or maybe her eyes weren't fresh enough. Either way, Rachel wanted them with her. And as she walked with the papers in hand, a title had caught her eye.

Just a few feet away stood the 'True Crime' section of the Non-Fiction area of the Lima library. Puck's mention of Batman comes back to mind, and though Rachel truly hasn't seen any film about the hero, nor has she read anything about him, she does know that there are minor similarities. For instance, Batman was an average man with a lot of gadgets he was capable of attaining through his father's company. So maybe Puck was right, maybe she was kind of like Batman, she wouldn't know if she didn't exhaust all possible comparisons. And so, Rachel walked towards the True Crime section, looking for books on detective work. How could she be the best if she didn't first research it?

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**A/N 2:** SalGersGirl, I have a love hate relationship with Puck's character. I adore Puckleberry bromance however wherever Quick is concerned he turns into an outright douchebag. I will tell you that the season one storyline is in fact canon here (as much as I despise Glee for writing it and then NOT showing that it was indeed legally rape nor did he face ANY repercussions for his actions), however I will not be ignoring it as the Glee Writers so easily chose to do. It is definitely something I plan to get into, although you have definitely given me something to think about with your trust issues with Santana and Puck...perhaps a sequel worthy idea. We shall see how this goes first. I am also very glad we share views on Kurt's character!


	4. The Plan

**A/N:** Hello again readers! Thank you so very much for the reviews and follows and the favorites. It's great knowing that people are following this fic. I know it's been a bit of a wait, but there is actual Faberry interaction here! And for the readers that are less than happy with Puck, you should appreciate this chapter as well, though I will keep it as a surprise for you to fully enjoy yourselves. Reviews, follows and favorites are always appreciated!

**A/N 2:** I'm sorry for being late with this update, last week was just insane, I couldn't catch a break at all long enough to write. I'm hoping things calm down enough for me to keep a steady flow, I even set up my college courses during the summer to give me time to write as well. So enjoy and I'll do my best to keep things constant. I also didn't beta this, or really look it over after I finished, so there are more than likely grammatical errors in this chapter, but I wanted to give you lovely readers something this week. I have noticed that my 'R' key likes to not always type, along with me missing the tops to the 'G' key and the 'B' key (I know, it's time for a new laptop. As soon as I can afford one I shall buy one). So I hope that errors aren't too horrible. And if it truly bothers any of you, you can always send me a PM and ask me to edit it after you've read it :) I won't mind.

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**Chapter Four:** _The Plan_

"Where the hell have you been?" Puck's voice is cold, angry and overall annoyed as he sees Rachel finally walking in through the front doors. She can see the worry on his face, his eyes seemingly strained as he grips tightly to his phone.

It would have been odd to the brunette, however given the certain...circumstances she was living in, she could understand his worry. To an extent that is. Because while she understood that he worried for her safety, she had gone a good three years without him there as well. She had faced slushies, being shoved into lockers, having food thrown at her, and many names called to her as well; a good portion of them from Noah himself. So when she watches him stand to move in closer to her, when she can literally feel his concern it hurts her. It almost burns. And that rage she's felt come so ferociously fast whenever she felt sad is slamming into her full force. Because how dare he? How dare he suddenly care? As if he was only doing so because no one else was, as if he was just here out of pity? "I have been exactly where I said I would be, Noah Puckerman," Rachel all but shouts, her finger pointing and jutting into Puck's chest. "If you were so worried you could have come to the library. You knew exactly where I was.

The bony finger being pressed further and further into his chest had actually started to hurt, and the fury he registered in brown eyes had managed to quell his own. Though he wasn't actually angry. If anything Puck had been worried sick. Rachel was important to him, and after what they just found out he didn't think she should be staying out late. "Someone had to stay here in case you came back! I had Finn go out to the library to look for you."

"You sent Finn Hudson to the library? Does he even know where that is?"

Puck's mouth opened and closed many times before he settled with an annoyed expression, arms crossing over his chest in defeat. "Look, whatever. You shouldn't have stayed out so late."

Rachel had never been a violent person. In fact, she was very much against violence being the answer to anything. However as she watched Noah Puckerman, the boy that abandoned her all those years ago, treat her as if she were some child that couldn't protect herself, she simply lost it. Without so much as a second thought given to her action, Rachel was taking off her right shoe and throwing it square at Puck's head. The thud that sounded had given her enough gratification to smile; however his frozen frame began to worry her some, and when she saw the evil grin she could only recall as bad news form over his features, she knew it had been a wrong move. "Noah, you should not treat me as if I am your child or as if I am not completely capable of handling myself," Her tone was weak, and as she unknowingly began to back herself into the wall nearest the front door, Puck simply arched a brow. "I am quite capable of walking Lima's streets alone, and no one suspects anything about that letter and...and so I feel that I am more than capable of- Noah!" Her body was thrown over his shoulder with ease; despite her kicking legs. And before she knew it her back was landing on the living room couch with a bounce, Noah's smug face standing at her legs, currently dangling over the edge of the couch.

"Next time, I tickle." He warns, moving to walk off again and leaving a disgruntled Rachel Berry behind. She easily scrambles to her feet, her hands quickly flattening her wild hair as she storms off to the kitchen, forgetting that she was supposed to pick up dinner for the two of them.

"Due to our previous conversation, I actually forgot to bring anything to eat. But as it seems you don't deserve dinner anyways. Also, about you calling me a modern day Batman?"

She can hear him sigh momentarily, and for a second she's not sure how to continue. Because she knew it sounded completely insane, she knew it was not at all what he would deem safe or appropriate. But then, this was never about him, this was about Rachel and the crime against her fathers. When she catches his nod, she can see the glimmer of hope in his eyes, and by the conversation they had about her lack of Batman knowledge, she assumes that shimmer in his eye is the hopes of her watching the movies with him. "I have found a few similarities myself, and you've given me an idea."

The sudden realization of what exactly she's saying slams into Puck like a semi, and his brows arch up in disbelief before he's walking away from her again. "No way. No freaking way. You're fucking insane, Berry, you know that? Like...who the hell takes me saying they're like a fictional hero to that degree?!" His eyes are fierce when he turns back around to face the brunette, and he can already see that this is a losing battle. Whether Puck helped her or not she was going to go through with it, and of course she saw that same recognition in his eyes.

"I'll be safe. I won't let anyone hurt me too badly, an-"

"You could get shot! How is that 'not getting hurt badly'? Rachel you're a fucking psycho if you think I'm going to let you do this." And still he knew that he was losing. The determination on her face was something he knew all too well, and while yeah he understood her need for an end to all of this, some kind of resolution, he didn't get how she thoughtt this was the best way to go about it.

"You'll help me train. You can teach me to fight, and if you wanted you could help me with certain missions."

"Missions? You're not a soldier, Berry. You're a frickin girl!"

That had easily been the worst mistake Puck had made, because that fire in Rachel's eyes that was easily at a small simmer grew at the challenege. His words fueling her to prove him wrong. To show him that even a girl could do this. Even a girl could kick some bad guy butt. "Are you saying that I couldn't take you? Are you saying that because I'm a girl I can't learn to fight? If anything it gives me an advantage, along with my size and my dancing! i'm more flexible than any man could hope to be, I'm agile, and quiet. You'd never hear me coming. I am also much stronger than I am percieved to be which would easily give me the advantage right frmo the start. I can do this, Puck. Just teach me how to fight and I can do this. I know I can."

Maybe he was going crazy, actually that was the only sane reason he could think of as to why this was making sense. Rachel was always good with words and arguments, it was why she lasted so long on the debate team, but he wasn't sure how she managed to get him to slowly start to see just how awesome she'd be at fighting crime. Maybe he was lost in the fantasy, in the hype of heroes and villains since the New Avenger's movie was starting to be filmed. Or maybe it was because he saw that desperation in Rachel, that need to do something more than just sit and grieve silently in a big empty house where everything reminded her of her dads. Maybe he was taking pity on her, but whatever it was, Puck had been defeated. She won, at least until Puck found a way to deter her. "You don't leave for any kind of 'mission' until I feel like you can handle yourself, got it?" She nodded enthusiastically, and then Puck got his answer as to why he was doing this. Because that God damn thousand watt smile made it's first appearance on her face and it was like the sun had finally come out from the clouds. And that mother freaking giggle sounded from her and well Puck was fucked after that. "I swear to God if you get shot I'm killing you."

The hours spent in Rachel's basement, learning to block, how to properly hold a fist, and where exactly a punch would hurt worst had been almost exhausting, and mostly painful. Rachel had known that Puck would hold back at first, but after so long the roles had been reversed, she couldn't seem to want to punch him, and Rachel Berry had always been against violence unless absolutely necessary. Puck had even tried to piss her off, talking about sleeping with her mom (which more disgusted her than anything, because it was hard to feel anything less than that with those images), and then proceeding to remind her of the slushies and names; but Rachel had always been far too forgiving for her own good. It wasn't until Puck had nearly given up on her that he finally said something that caused her to quite literally see red.

_"If every girl were this freaking hard to get riled up I'd have never had a kid out there." Puck grumbled under his breath, facing away from the brunette that didn't seem to have an angry bone in her body. He hadn't seen the bottle of water coming, but when he felt it land square at the back of his head, he definitely felt it. "What the fuck?" He asked as he turned, only to be met with a hard slap to his cheek._

_Rachel hadn't yet gotten accustomed to forming the correct fist, and it was second nature to hurt him with the way he talked about Quinn. He could say all he wanted about Shelby, or even Santana, but Quinn had gone through enough. She'd been put through more than any girl her age should ever have had to face and Rachel was not about to let Puck talk about her that way; even if it hadn't been directly._

_With a loud, hard slap to the face, Puck finally understood what drove Rachel. Something almost ironically romantic about it to him, considering Quinn had stopped everything in her world to give Rachel whatever it was she wanted. "S'matter, Berry? You know Quinn's just heartless anyways, why do you care how I talk about her? Girl's got ice in her veins, she didn't even show up to your dad's memorial!" And then Rachel knew how to punch. Her fist collided with his cheek, hard, and she wailed lightly in pain before cradling her fist in her hand. It hurt far worse than she had imagined it to, but the following punches and kicks had dulled it some._

Puck rubbed at the bruise on his face, growing out from his cheekbone; Rachel managed to do a small number on him. But that wasn't the issue, if anyone asked he'd just lie and say that he beat up a police man and his horse. Unfortunately, he had Rachel to worry about. He hadn't planned on leaving any kind of visible bruise, but lo and behold the girl had one nasty looking blotch of purple growing on her cheekbone as well, opposite the side he had his on. They looked at each other before exiting the car, neither one having spoken since their fight.

No matter how many times Puck swore he only said what he had during their sparrring session to egg her on, Rachel didn't believe him. And why should she? Puck was a known man-whore; she wouldn't put anything past him in his teenage years. The Puck she knew from childhood, he'd never think the things that were said, but this boy walking beside her? Rachel had no clue. "You gonna stay mad at me all day?" Puck finally asked, walking Rachel to her locker. The two were eyed suspiciously the entire way, most probably thinking some sort of domestic abuse scandal was going on between them. If only it had been that simple. Then Rachel could simply walk away, but as it was she needed Puck. She needed her friend, despite what he may or may not have thought about the one girl that had been the object of Rachel's world on most days.

"If you must know, I plan on using the silent treatment to get you to grovel at my feet. At least until I can convince you to do more in our training." Her old friend only groans and slams the back of his head against metal lockers, body now leaning up against the row Rachel's own exists on. He couldn't believe his ears, and he knew that he wouldn't ever be able to get out of the dog house until Rachel got exactly what she wanted. It was his own fault, agreeing to this in the first place had been crazy. Puck never thought that Rachel would take his comparison to such an extreme degree, but yet again, he should have known. Rachel was all about dramatics and theatricallity. He hoped that once she got the gist of the whole super hero buzz out of her system, she'd move on and let the cops handle it; something didn't quite sound likely about that.

The majority of her classes, Rachel spent ignoring looks of pity and confusion. And when she noticed a pair of worried sad hazel eyes on her, she couldn't help but grow nervous under their gaze. It had been like this almost all day. Quinn's eyes seemed to find Rachel's in the halls and the two of them locked into place. Their bodies frozen in time as each tried to read the other. It happened during each break, as well as the two classes they shared before lunch. At some point during their dance, Kurt had come up to Rachel demanding answers, however Rachel looked past him. Her grieving had forced her to think about a lot, and now with her growing annoyances due to the fashionable young boy's rants about the injustice he'd been faced with, Rachel couldn't seem to want to give him the time of day.

No one had any answers about why both Puck and Rachel had bruises on their faces, Puck swore that he saved Rachel from a dirty cop (a rather idiotic lie if Rachel said so herself), and Rachel never answered anyone. Just told them it wasn't their business and to not worry about it and moved on to her next destination.

However when Quinn Fabray approached her just before lunch, her eyes unchanged from the morning in any way, Rachel knew she'd tell her everything she could without giving away her secret. "Quinn," It was an awkward greeting, but then this was an awkward situation. How exactly does one talk to the girl that's managed to peak every single one of your interests but always shoot you down without a single thought to friendship?

"What happened?" The blondes voice is particularly weak, he eyes flickering between worry and...was that..anger? It couldn't have been, Rachel had seen that very emotion over Quinn's features many times before, and it had never looked as it did now.

"It's nothing," Rachel sated, giving Quinn a weak smile. "A coping mechanism." Her attempt at a nonchalant shrug failed, a hidden bruise at her back causing a shot of pain to course through her briefly. The questioning look on Quinn's face told Rachel she'd been caught wincing, and with a sigh she lowered her shoulders, relaxing her form. There was no need to be tense around this Quinn. This Quinn was different from the one that wore the Cheerio uniform. This Quinn was kinder, gentler, and always managed to make Rachel feel her heart swell at some point. It was always ignored, the petite girl knew better than to get her hopes up. At least she did now, so she avoided Quinn and her romantic feelings for her at all costs. Not that it had done her any actual good.

"Did Puck do this to you?" Her pale fingers point to Rachel's cheek, and soon they're tenderly touching the purpling skin, another wince crossing Rachel's features. She hadn't expected fighting to hurt as badly as it did. Not when she saw so many movies practically advertise the 'fun' of it. Or how often boys tried to show their masculinity through it.

"I asked him to. He's teaching me self-defense." It wasn't a complete lie, and by the look on Quinn's face, she seemed to accept the answer.

Though neither one moved. Lunch would more than likely be over by the time either one of them said anything more at this rate, but Rachel refused to walk away, not when Quinn Fabray was standing directly in front of her, eyeing her with so much care and worry. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with that, how she was supposed to react, or what on Earth she was supposed to think. But when she saw that worried face begin to chew on a lower lip, Rachel finally found words, pulling out a brown paper bag from her locker. "Would you like to eat lunch with me?"

It had done a minor good job, light pink lips quirking into a small grin, though only for a few moments. Something was going on in that mysterious head, and Rachel for the life of her couldn't figure it out. But she wouldn't pry; she'd learned long ago that Quinn moved at her own pace, no faster nor slower. She had half expected the blonde to come up with an excuse, what with how long she was taking to answer, however when that soft nod appeared, Rachel felt herself smile what Noah would have called an obnoxiously wide grin, and led the way to the auditorium. She'd refused to eat in front of people that would only stare and avoid any subject that could possibly remind Rachel of her fathers, which of course meant lunches were typically silent. Much to Rachel's complete annoyance.

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**A/N 3:** _**F****rustratedwrriter13,** _Puck is going to play a pretty vital role, however he is not in every single chapter. The chapters I have planned out so far (which reach up to chapter thirteen) do have him slowly kind of fade to the background, however he is a pretty major character. Fo the sake of the story, I won't answer your last question! I do hope you don't let Puckleberry get in the way though, as I love all my readers :)  
_**SalGersGirl,** _you never cease to amuse me with your reviews lol you're so passionate it's kind of awesome. And again, I agree with everything you say lol


	5. The Right Look

**A/N**: I want to apologize ahead of time for this chapter. Not only is it late beyond belief, but it's also not that great (at least in my opinion). I had a lot of family drama happen, got disowned by my mother, scolded by my father, preparing for my summer semester in college, and also taking my girlfriend's father to his chemo/radiation appointments. So life just got a bit hectic there. Also, I want to thank everyone so much for the feedback I've been getting from this fic, I love reading it! And seeing so many followers on this makes my heart swell so thank you for those as well. Everything is all very much appreciated.

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**Chapter Five:** _The Right Look_

Pat Benetar blared throughout the lonely house, the walls vibrating with the low bass of the guitar, the drums throbbing against the speakers. There was something Rachel Berry adored about a woman singing rock and roll and looking like she did not give a single damn about society and the views forced upon a woman that truly made the girl's pump. As shown her her fast-paced run on her eliptical, each step matching the beat to Heartbreaker. There wasn't any real reason to be training as hard as she was lately, she wasn't any closer in finding out her fathers' killer, and Puck was proving to be useless with research. The most his brain could handle was attempting to balance a pencil on his nose while Rachel had gone over article after article.

When a new voice sounded from her speakers, singing out You Can Go Your Own Way, Rachel's quick-paced exercise had slowed to a soft stop; the image of Quinn's worried however smiling face from their lunch the previous afternoon causing a smile to break her focused features. It should have been ironic to her, especially now after watching The Amazing Spider-Man with Puck, that now that she was a hero (or rather hero in training), she found a love interest of some kind. It wasn't the plan, Rachel had wanted to do what was right by her fathers, but one lunch with the blonde and that crush from Freshman year was flying back to her; and she remembered exactly why it was that she simply couldn't let Quinn force her out of her life. It wasn't fair, and Rachel would not be able to avoid the blonde in any sense.

The door suddenly slamming open caused Rachel to jump, but look at the ridiculous sight in front of her. Puck must be able to hear the songs from his room down the hall, for he sang into an imaginary microphone to the words of- When had her song changed? Joan Jett's rendition of Crimson and Clover was now playing, Rachel having lost herself in the previous song and thoughts for longer than she'd thought. But as the guitar riff started, and Puck's body began dancing - or rather thrashing - about Rachel's room, the girl couldn't seem to remember what she was thinking about."What are you doing?" She said with a giggle, shoving Puck's shoulder as he snag directly into her face.

"Distracting you, you need a break." Was his answer, his features almost serious, that large playful smile still very much plastered over his features. There had been a wall between them since their first sparring session, Rachel's feelings about Quinn, and the things that Puck had done getting in the way of her being too open with him. That wasn't something the boy she knew from childhood would have done, and it certainly wasn't something that Rachel would have ever expected from him even with the new persona he adopted for his popularity to sky rocket. Nevertheless, it happened two years ago, bringing the hurt that she felt up now seemed almost cruel.

"I'm fine, thank you." Rachel turned then, moving to the music that was still playling loudly. She heard Puck's feet shuffle some, his voice coming soon after.

"We need to think about costumes," A valid arguement, but Rachel couldn't seem to understand what the change of heart had been. Puck had gone over the same reasons as to why they couldn't, or rather shouldn't, be doing this; and Rachel always argued back until she came out as victorious. However this time Puck had a plan, he figured this was all just a fantasy, a way to release those angry emotions inside and once they rode their course, Rachel would see just how idiotic this all was. It was a fity-fifty shot and well, Puck liked those odds; better than nothing always had been his motto.

"Whatdid you have in mind?" Rachel asked as she sat on her bed, a silent, albiet obvious, invitation for Puck to join her. While things were pretty rocky between them (the boy of course being non the wiser), she refused to lose someone that seemed to understand her more than any of the others could.

"I was thinking latex, or leather. You can't get much more badass than freaking leather." His smile was almost endearing, but Rachel simply couldn't return it to the full extent she once used to be able to. Quinn's somber face from two years ago appearing and infiltrating nearly every thought. Sure, she didn't seem nearly as sad now, but it only made it all the worse in Rachel's mind. Because Quinn had to grow to be happy on her own. There wasn't any friend that was consistently there for her; a fact Rachel knew well herself.

"I'm afraid neither of those materials are incredibly easy to breathe in, and I can't help but wonder about body temperature. Not to mention the fact that we do not have a cave to hide them in should company ever be over. And if they caught sight of the costumes, what then?"

The muscular shoulders slouched as Rachel made more and more sense, and with a sigh he laid back against the cushy bed. "Spandex?"

Rachel nodded, thinking to herself before speaking. "Spandex is a more realistic material, though incredibly easy to tear. Ironically your identity would be better hidden in street clothes; and you'd be more comfortable." The singer shrugged herself, eyes finding Puck's as she turned some on her bed. "Not to mention far less suspicious when going out shopping. Not that you'd be able to find a fully made costume in Lima until October."

"My mom knows how to sow."

"Your mother doesn't know of our plans and I'd rather keep it that way. Besides, I'm not sure she'd be fine with her failing son going out to fight crime instead of studying for his education and degree." The knowing cock of her brow had Puck rolling his eyes, but she was mostly right; Mama Puckerman'd be pretty pissed.

"So you want to go in jeans and a t-shirt?"

"Among a few other needed necessities. Bullet proof vests, cargo pants, and if they do in fact exist, a utility belt. One not as baggy or bulky as the ones you see construction workers in." The mental list only continued building in her mind as she truly thought about it, something that had actually surprised Rachel Berry, who had a mental list for nearly every single possible occasion; so the mere fact that she hadn't given her hidden identity any true thought was entirely out of character for her. But then, she had been distracted, it was hard to focus on reality when your mind was so unbelievably happy in a dream world. Quinn seemed to plague Rachel's thoughts since their lunch. Barely any words were shared between the two, and still, Rachel felt closer to her than even Puck. Quinn didn't understand the pain that Rachel had just been put through, but she understood the need for silence at times, and the need for distraction during other moments.

The two shared some memories, laughing softly at some, blushing at others, and getting answers for those that they didn't understand. The latter having been done more on Rachel's part, as there was so much about Quinn she didn't get. Like the way she looked at her, or why it seemed as if she did everything Rachel asked her to. The answers were always mildly vague, but one had stuck out to the petite brunette, and the memory of it alone had brought a soft smile to her features.

_ "Why'd you agree to eat with me?"_

_ It was after much thought that Quinn answered Rachel, her eyes that misty gaze she'd worn for most of senior year. "I thought I'd see if you'd still like to be friends."_

Of course Rachel had smiled like an idiot, it had been all Rachel asked for in years, and for once it seemed as though the puzzle pieces were finally finding each other and fitting in; she had just wished her dads were there to see it unfold. She'd told them on so many occasions about Quinn, and had even confessed having a small crush on the girl; and now they wouldn't get to see it all blossom into friendship, the final thing Rachel ever begged for at night when she'd had a hard day of slushies and vocal lessons.

The memories hurt, but consumed Rachel throughout the rest of her day, and she'd managed to stomach a nice half plate of a meal. Puck looked over Rachel fondly at that, happy to see the girl coming back to life, even if only for a few moments. It was still progress. It was up until second period the next day that things were starting to feel almost normal again. Rachel walking to her locker, having been forced to sit through only a mildly awkward classroom, heard the first thud, and then Puck's over-exaggerated sound of anguish. In fear, though of what the girl couldn't know, she rushed forward and stopped short of the sight before her. Quinn holding Puck by the scruff of his collar, her face mere inches from his own, and Noah Puckerman looking like he was about to wet himself. "Why are there more bruises now?" She asked, seething through a glare that could have easily burned a hole in anyone's heart. Even Rachel had to admit the blonde looked absolutely terrifying. She hadn't seen this kind of rage boil within the blonde since sophomore year.

"Dude, she's learning self-defense, shit's gonna happen!" Puck squealed, his eyes attempting to narrow as if he wasn't currently shaking like a rat trapped by a cat.

Quinn simply let the boy go and shoved him once more, his back colliding once again into the lockers behind him. Rachel winced. Quinn moved in. "One more bruise, and I swear to God, I'll teach you a lesson in self-defense." If Rachel wasn't so consumed in shock, she'd probably have questioned Quinn's worry, she'd probably have helped Noah up from where he stood, but as it was she couldn't seem to do anything but stare at Quinn; questions at the tip of her tongue and yet dying in her throat the moment that blonde turned around and caught the brunette intruding on her violent private moment. The two simply looked at each other for a beat, and shockingly it was Quinn who made the first move.

Rachel stood in her spot, frozen with shock, awe, and complete adoration for the blonde. She had missed the first half of Quinn's sentence, only able to process how to simply breathe in that moment. "Excuse me?"

Quinn quirked a brow at the vacant expression on Rachel's face, only repeating herself when she was positive that Rachel was actually listening. "I asked you what you're so afraid of."

"Spider's mostly," Rachel answered honestly, not aware of how her body had slowly been leaning forward as if to hear a well kept secret pass Quinn's lips.

"No, I mean...why are you suddenly taking self-defense lessons? Or better yet, why are you taking them from Puck?"

"Oh...I, well I needed..." Stumbling over her words, Rachel put on her best acting face, coming up with a story as quickly as possible. "I'll be leaving for New York soon, it is our senior year after all, and I do plan on graduating. And given that New York is hardly a safe place to be in the evening, I asked Puck's advice on what is crucial to know in the event that I need to defend myself. Of course, I wasn't expecting him to offer up a private lesson with him, but it was free, and I am not one to turn down such things when I'm quite positive they'd be rather expensive." The small glint in Quinn's eye told Rachel all she needed to know.

Quinn didn't believe her. And she wasn't going to give up until she had the truth.

And yet, for some torturous reason, the girl left it alone. She didn't tell Rachel that she knew she was lying, she didn't force the smaller girl to spill out what was really going on. She simply told her to be careful, and moved on. Leaving a dumbstruck Rachel Berry standing in the hallway, only now realizing that at some point in her conversation with Quinn, Puck had left.

It was only in an attempt to distract herself that Rachel was now sitting in her living room, binder of newspaper clippings out before her. Puck had already voiced his displeasure, placing a plate of some kind of stir fry (Rachel was positive he only made it because there was such little chance of him messing it up) before the studious girl; and Rachel ignored his words, sipping on her cup of water, reading over the headlines as if she were seeing them for the first time. Brown eyes had scanned these sheets over and over, read every sentence, gone over every letter. There hadn't been a single clue; until now.

While Rachel focused ever so clearly on the words, she failed to examine the photos, at least to the extent that she was now. Her gaze losing itself, mind fried from burning the articles into memory, had found the one security camera photo of the night of the murder. It hadn't captured anything, just the parked cars in the lot, one of them belonging to Hiram Berry. What it did catch, what no one else seemed to notice, was the figure sitting in the car just a few slots down from the old Chrystler.

The balding man was easy enough to identify, despite it being nearly drowned out in black print ink. John Gisbson, Chief of Police, was sitting at the very bank, on the very night, at the exact time of Hiram and Leroy's murder. And he swore that he knew nothing about any of what had happened. He swore to bring justice and yet here he was, watching a murder take place, and not doing a damn thing about it.

Rachel's teeth ground together, and before she could allow herself to begin crying out of rage, she slammed the binder shut and hurriedly moved to her room, gathering up all she would need for her 'costume'. The tears she fought back had begun to show themselves, spilling past her ducts as she searched through her drawers for the right attire. Hatred fueled her motions, anger egged on tears, and pain consumed ehr body as she stupidly allowed herself to feel the loss of her fathers.

She'd been doing so well, ignoring the pain, working past it, moving on in spite of the ache that filled her chest. But there wasn't a single distraction now. The image of the chief still burned into her head as she felt a soft sob escape past tight lips. A long growl of a groan sounded when she had her ensemble together. Baggy cargo pants, comfortable long sleeve shirt; all she was missing was the eyemask. It wasn't as if she needed it now, but the hurt and anger had turned Rachel Berry into a desperate pool of need for distraction. She couldn't focus on the hole left behind, she couldn't focus on the fact that one of her oldest best friends only came back because no one else was there for her. And she definitely couldn't focus on the fact that Quinn Fabray seemed more worried about her than any of the glee clubbers combined. Because if she did, if Rachel let herself really think about it, she'd hate them. She'd hate every single one of them for how fake they were, for how horribly they treated her. They only ever came around when they needed something, never when Rachel needed them.

It was only ever Quinn that had been honest, that had done things simply for the fact that Rachel wanted them. The yearbook picture, dueting with Sam, there was a list somewhere that Rachel had wirtten up, but for the life of her she couldn't remember where she placed it.

Not that it was at all important now. Not when a man walked on free of any sort of guilt for his actions; or lack thereof.

By the time she had finished getting dressed, Puck was already in the kitchen cleaning off her untouched plate, as well as his own. "Noah," her voice was broken, and it was quite possibly the only reason why the boy turned around at all. He himself had been thinking far too much lately. Thinking about what happened, about what Rachel's been through, about that damn letter, and about what he was going to do with the two girls that seemed to circle each other but refuse to actually act on any chance they were given. "I want to train."

The boy didn't even try and deny the brunette the satisfaction of hitting him a few times. He recognized pain, he knew the features well on anyone, and Rachel was more or less an open book to him. HEr eyes were always so expressive, hardly ever guarded. So when they walked down the steps to her basement, and silently prepared themselves for a sparring match, Puck wasn't at all surprised at the force behind each punch. He wasn't shocked at her speed or her shouts as she punched and kicked and tackled. What had surprised him was the crying.

In the moment that Rachel had run forward to attack his middle, Puck caught sight of the tears; and instead of moving to stand and prepare to fight again, he simply held on to the petite singer, who fought his grip as they laid on the floor of the basement. Rachel continued struggling some, until the first sob sounded. Then she froze, fought the second, and released the third. There wasn't a point in stopping them now, Puck had heard, was still locking his arms around her, and there wasn't a single thing that she could do to make time go back. To make him have not heard a single thing. To make her fathers return, to make it as if none of this had happened. She was helpless. Helpless until her alter ego was ready. And then she would go after John Gibson and whoever else decided to sit back and do nothing.

She'd wait until the time came for them to get theres.

Or until she simply grew impatient.


End file.
